Games we play
by snowdrop65
Summary: It was foolish of us to think that this would work. Taking human forms, opening a bar in one of the busiest streets in Washington DC, hoping to be accepted as an equal part of the community. But, the truth is, humans aren't keen on accepting us, or allowing us to become a part of their everyday lives. To them, we are still legends, just as we've always been.
1. Chapter 1

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Humans have the most terrifying minds. This was the first truth that I've learned at the beginning of my existence and even now, after sixty-eight years, I cling to it. Those words were ringing in my ears as I stared at by brother's body.

It takes only so much to mortally wound these fragile human bodies, such as a well-placed bullet in the head, or a precise slash across one of the major arteries. Then again, that doesn't make the former any less gruesome to witness. The bullet was still there, I noticed, lodged in his skull and it seemed so tiny and non-threatening, or at least, not until it was in a gun in human hands. I ran my fingers across it, making my brother let out a small groan.

It was foolish of us to think that this would work. Taking human forms, opening a bar in one of the busiest streets in Washington DC, hoping to be accepted as an equal part of the community. But, the truth is, humans aren't keen on accepting us, or allowing us to become a part of their everyday lives. To them, we are still legends, just as we've always been, incorporated into myths and fairytales and used to cheer up their offspring before bed, or to teach them an 'important lesson about life', such as: _Love always wins_ , or, _Don't take apples from strangers,_ or, _Good will always win over evil._ Sure, the lessons are indeed valuable and important, but humans always had trouble to distinguish good from evil. The prime example stood behind me, the gun still shaking in his hand.

"Get up! Put your hands in the air!"

I did, slowly, causing my brother's fingers to twitch as he attempted to grab my wrist. His voice came out as a strangled groan, his lips struggling to form the words. "Belle... don't."

 _It's fine_ , I wanted to say, offering him a small smile, but the human's victorious voice interrupted me.

"I knew it! You're demons! Both of you!" He pointed the gun at us, with a murdeous glint in his eyes that I'd seen so many times before, ready to end the job he'd started. My fists clenched as I stared at the man's reflection in the glass on the coffee table in front of me. If I so much as moved, he would shoot, and I didn't really feel like going to Hell. _Again._

Instead, I stared at the reflection, calculating and re-calculating if I would be fast enough to turn the trajectory of the bullet, or if I would be forced to call for help. _Again._

Deciding against it, because being in anyone's debt was something I just didn't do, I ran.

 _Bang. Bang._

.

" _Really, kids? This is the third time this month."_

 _Damn it._

 _Ok, wrong choice of words._

 _Fuck, then._

 _Belle felt hard ground beneath her, even though she'd landed on top of something soft when she fell. She let out a hiss as she could feel the bullet lodged in her spine, and, even though the pain was miniscule, it was still quite uncomfortable. Also, she was almost one hundred percent sure that her legs were paralyzed. Another groan came from beside her, and when she turned her head, she saw Beau, with yet another bullethole in his head._

 _She had to admit, that man had an excellent aim._

 _He looked over to her, as well, his colorful eyes scanning around before he scrunched his nose slightly, then jumped to his feet._

" _Hello, Dad. Long time no see," he said politely, yet bitterly, as he shook the ever-falling ashes off his equally gray wings. The bullets in his forehead didn't seem to bother him at all, in fact, it looked like he didn't even notice them._

 _The incubus scowled at the young man whom he called his son. As if it wasn't enough that he risked his own skin every time he pushed them out, he also had to put up with the attitude. "This has to stop."_

 _Belle cringed at the way words became distorted and detached as soon as they were spoken out loud. That, combined with the distance from her element and the way time was so slowed down that it had barely been a moment since they were shot, made her head feel light._

" _Or what? You'll lose your job?" Beau mocked, finally moving over to her and helping her get the bullet out of her spine. He wasn't gentle about it, either, but nonetheless, Belle still sighed in relief when she felt a tingling sensation spread down her legs._

" _Well, he definately might."_

 _The voice was unfamilliar, male, yet Belle felt as if she'd heard it at least a hundred times before. Every single word was honeyed and strangely seductive, as if they were spoken by a merman or an incubus, or other such creature who use their voice as s tool to get what they wanted. It sounded like someone one would trust immediately. Then again, when she looked up at her father and brother, her eyes widened._

 _She'd never seen them afraid, ever. But, at that moment, they were horrified as if they were staring at Death himself. With her back turned to whoever it was, Belle couldn't see their face, but in foresight, she saw a hand lower itself on her shoulder, with red, heavily burnt skin. That image alone made the expression on her face match the ones on the two men in front of her._

" _Raphael," the seemingly disembodied voice spoke to Belle's father. "Take your son to the surface."_

 _Not even glancing down at her, the incubus approached Beau and, in the blink of an eye, they disappeared with a single flap of black wings so that the only thing that was left of her brother was an echo of his scream and a single, gray feather, which floated over to Belle and landed beside her feet. Frozen, she stared at the feather, before picking it up with shaking hands and lightly running a finger across its sharp edge._

 _The image that came to her at that moment made her choke back tears._

 _Sure enough, she then felt the hand on her shoulder._

.

Father wasn't there when I woke up. Instead, I saw our human murderer drop his gun and proceeded to run to the exit, but he didn't get far. A young and gorgeous policewoman was waiting for him in front of the bar, and, before the man could ever process what was happening, he was pinned to the ground. She smiled at me, her dark eyes glinting, and I couldn't help but smile back. For a moment, I was lost in the chocolate whirlpool that was her eyes, before reality struck me with its icy blade.

The very moment that I looked down at the empty space next to me, was the moment I heard the voice speak my name.

"Beau?"

It was so sweet, so crystal-clear, ringing in my ears over and over. _Beau_. _Beau. Beau._ That wonderful sound hadn't grazed my ears in over sixty years. I looked up and couldn't believe my eyes. My sister, my beautiful, beautiful sister, standing barely a few steps away from me. I felt unexplainable relief wash over me. My lips streched into a huge smile, the face of the Devil now completely gone from my mind as I stared into her large, violet eyes.

Within two seconds, I had her in my arms, enveloped in a crushing, desperate hug.

.

He didn't ask how I got my voice back. He didn't ask why my hair was a foot longer than it had been. But, most importantly, he didn't ask about the wilted gray feather that I wore around my neck.

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	2. Chapter 2

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We never talked about Hell. Somehow, it became something that we'd convinced ourselves that the other had forgotten about, or that it all was just a bad dream or a shock-fueled hallucination and surely, it could've been easily passed off as one if we'd ever talked to someone about it. Sometimes, I'd spend entire nights listening to my brother toss and turn in his sleep and I couldn't help but feel guilty for my ability to distance myself from what I found threatening. If I went to a human psychiatrist, I would surely be diagnosed as a sociopath.

Surely, one would have to be mad to spend actual time in Hell and not go completely insane. Right?

One day, after another night of thinking, I decided to address my brother. "Beauregard?"

Those storm-colored eyes searched for mine, his brow furrowed ever-so-slightly in confusion - I only ever used his full name before a serious discussion was to occur.

But, instead of all of the questions that I had in mind, I only asked: "Are you okay?"

We didn't lie to each other, ever, because honesty was an important part of every relationship, especially a familial one. But at that moment, I could clearly see him hesitate. After a few moments of silence, he sighed.

"I think I've convinced myself that I am. But the truth is… I can't stop thinking about it." He paused, his eyes closing for a good minute before he was able to look at her again. "Father said that you didn't even flinch."

I immediately sensed the underlying question. I slowly shook my head. "I didn't."

"How has it been, then? For you?" Beau pressed on, because they were finally talking about it and it was clear that he'd prepared many of his own questions. Only he was bolder at asking them than her.

I had to think about what I would say to him, because I suddenly realized what the truth made me look like. The truth was a such a small, simple word, but I knew that it wasn't what my brother wanted to hear. It was something no one wanted to hear and I didn't even want to admit it to myself.

"It was…" I start, digging my fingernails into my palms, because the half-truth felt like a lie as soon as it came out of my mouth. "Different."

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Things seemed to go for the better since that day.

A few months later, Beau and the chocolate-eyed policewoman, Nicole, began dating. Two weeks after that, she announced that she'd quit her job, so she began working at the bar. A year later, the two had gotten married and moved to live together in a separate house. There was no denying that the woman was clever, kind and absolutely gorgeous, and somehow, my dear brother didn't seem to mind the fact that she was a succubus.

It had all happened so fast and even now, four years after I became completely independent, I'm still struggling to cope with waking up in a quiet apartment.

So, I got a dog.

It was a gorgeous, gray-furred pup with mismatched eyes and a wonky tail. _Someone stepped on it by accident,_ the salesman had said, which was probably a code for: _I ran my car over it and, accidentally or not, the dog ended up with a broken tail._ I didn't mind, though, so I'd scooped up the frightened pup in my arms and took him home. As soon as we'd gotten there, he jumped out of my arms and began running around my tiny apartment and sniffing every single surface within his reach, before he finally peed into my flower pot.

The same night, there had been a freak thunderstorm. Despite my strange obsession with Mother Nature's violent mood swings in the forms of thunder and lightning, I was a little worried that my new roommate might not be too keen on it. Strangely, the dog, instead of hiding under my bed, spent the better part of the night staring out the window and half-barking, half-howling at the storm, as if he was greeting the sylphs creating it and, every time a lightning seemed to tear apart the night sky, he happily wiggled his butt and wonky tail.

"I shall name you Lux Morpheus," I officially told him later that night, when he hopped onto the bed and slipped under my wing. "After the one thing you don't seem to be terrified of, and… Morpheus is just because I like the name"

Lux Morpheus barked happily, cordially accepting his new title and completely ignoring its obscurity.

I awoke eight hours later completely refreshed. That was the first night in years that I'd slept without my mind being plagued with dreams that I couldn't explain, from the time that I'd erased from my memory. I softly scratched the dog between his ears, before giving him a kiss on the nose, which he returned by licking me all over my face.

.

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It seemed that all the bar needed to truly come to life was a little music.

It all began one September night, when Beau and Nicole decided to organize a karaoke night. At first, I thought that it was a silly idea, but as it turned out, humans, whether they were fueled with liquid courage or not, truly enjoyed singing. Some were horrible and some were bearable, but in a strange way it brought them closer and they would even climb onto the stage in groups to sing one or a few songs.

The most frequent singer was an unusually bright and bubbly woman, sometimes alone, but usually accompanied with one or two friends, one of whom I immediately recognized as a water nymph with an unusual name of only two letters smashed together. The other woman was slightly older, dark-haired and with a contagious laugh that one couldn't help but giggle along with, and she had a superbly ordinary name that somehow suited her perfectly: Emily. Those three never came on a specific day of the week like most people did, but they did visit every week at least once, which made me think that they must have had an unpredictable work schedule. Maybe they worked in a branch of medicine, or were in the local police.

So, one night, I asked Nicole about it.

"Oh, yeah," the demoness said as she counted the tips she got. "I remember them from about six years ago, while I was on a murder case. The chief called them in to help us investigate, but if you ask me… those guys had all the fun."

I rolled my eyes, taking a few seconds to process her words. _Could it be…_ I remembered an article that I'd glossed over back in 2003, about a spree killer in the DC area. The only reason that it stuck with me was that it was the first time in that I'd seen my father on the surface, and I also learned that his job wasn't just regular bounty hunting.

 _This is it, no turning back now,_ my instinct told me, but that didn't stop fear from creeping up my spine and wrapping its cold fingers around my throat. Seconds suddenly felt like hours and the air itself, the very thing that my species was forged from, felt unnatural as time slowed down to a halt.

"What is happening?" I asked the Angel, even though deep down, I knew.

"I'm giving you time to remember." A wing came around my shoulder in a gesture that probably should've been consoling, but it instead only served to crush me from inside out.

"Remember what?" I snapped, shrugging the dark brown feathery cloak off of me and moving to step in front of him. For once, I thanked my sylph genes for allowing me to be so freakishly tall, which gave me the added courage to stand up to the infinitely stronger Angel and look him in the eye.

With his usual collectiveness, Amenadiel cocked his head slightly to the side. "How interesting."

"What is?"

"Your impatience," he said calmly, which only served to fuel my defensive posture. "It seems to overcome even my brother's." The Angel sat at one of the empty tables after withdrawing his wings so that he could lean against the backrest. He pointed to the empty chair across from him and I stared at it for a few moments, before sitting down with a small sigh.

"Which brother are you talking about exactly?" I asked, watching as his lip curled upward.

"How much time did you spend with Lucifer?"

Ah, there it was, the question that my brother had never asked, and even if he did, I would have been forced to twist the truth so that he wouldn't feel guilty afterwards.

Swallowing, I leaned forward in my chair to look my heavenly protector in the eye.

"A hundred and twenty years, give or take. It's all a bit blurry, to be perfectly honest."

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	3. Chapter 3

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" _Stand up."_

 _Despite the sultry voice, the way the words were spoken hinted at them being a direct order. The hand moved from Belle's shoulder, just as red and burnt as she'd seen in her vision, and it was outstretched for her to grasp to help her regain her balance. For a moment, she hesitated, but eventually she took the offered hand and got onto her still shaky legs._

 _She wasn't afraid – not really, or at least that was what was expected of her. If she was merely one percent less of a sylph than she was succubus, she wouldn't have been able to even look at the man, let alone keep eye-contact for that long._

 _How was it even possible for someone to have all the fires of Hell behind their irises?_

 _There was no denying that the Devil himself was standing in front of her in all his glory, missing the horns and tail that he was usually presented with in books and folklore. He was scary, yes – but she wasn't even flinching._

" _So it is true – Sylphs aren't afraid of anyone." He revealed sharp teeth as he spoke, enunciating every single word. "That is good. I don't need a demon for the task that I have for you."_

 _Belle opened her mouth to ask the question that came to her mind, but, remembering the state of her vocal chords, she swallowed the breath she took. Maybe it was from breathing in so much ash particles that she'd forgotten that it had been over sixty years since she'd last been able to verbally communicate._

 _The Devil frowned. Why wasn't she protesting, or speaking? His eyes scanned her, body first. Tall, with long limbs and a very un-sylph-like feminine figure that his hands itched to explore. 'Patience,' he told himself, urging himself to look up at her face. With inhumanly colored eyes, porcelain skin taut over the finely structured bones of her face, complete with golden brown hair making the messy bun on the top of her head, she a treat to look at. He was sure that even Maze would agree._

 _Taking a step back, he began circling around her, taking in the unusual curve of her wings. The only similarity that the wings had with an Angel's was that they were feathered. They sat slightly lower at her back and seemed to be missing one of the wingbones, and, as such, they were able to furl tightly on her back, forming a heart-like shape._

 _He hmm-d thoughtfully, eyeing once more the midnight blue primaries she sported, before he went to stand in front of her once more. As he passed, he noticed a pale scar on the left side of her neck and going across her throat as if she'd been injured. He frowned again, reaching out to touch it, which caused the halfling to hiss._

" _Relax," he purred and, not touching the scar, tipped her head slightly to the side. "Oh, my… what do we have here?"_

 _Belle closed her eyes in shame. He was probably going to mock her. Her species was notorious for their singing abilities and beautiful, silvery voices, but only a single accidental slash across her neck left her with ripped vocal chords that never healed properly. Ever since that day, her brother had told anyone who asked that she was born mute, because that was somehow less shameful than the truth that she'd lost her voice because she wasn't careful enough._

" _Tell me, love: was the weapon that caused this of this world?"_

 _Belle opened her eyes and looked at him, her eyes widening slightly when she saw that he'd changed his appearance. In front of her stood a tall, slender man, incredibly human-like and undoubtedly very attractive. His voice matched this face a lot better. In her modest opinion, she was quite impressed, which didn't happen often when it regarded male physical appearance._

 _She assumed that by 'this world', he meant_ _ **this**_ _world, so, looking down, she slowly nodded. The celestial bow and arrows had been given to her as a gift for her eleventh birthday, but… how would he know?_

" _I thought so. Few things can hurt you cambions."_

 _She shook her head furiously at the word. She'd tolerated being called many names, but she wasn't… that._

" _Have I offended you? Sorry," the Devil said, leaning in to inspect her neck again. "It is what you are, though." He smiled at her pout, pretending that he ignored it. "Okay, uh… Close your eyes."_

 _Belle only raised an eyebrow at him._

" _Well, I can't kill you if you're already dead, now can I?"_

' _He has a point,' her conscious mind told her, but the other, logical side of her brain told her that she was still in Hell and that, technically, anything could happen to her. Not to mention that her body was still very vulnerable, so, if she were to lose a limb, that limb would never grow back. Ever. She wasn't an Angel with incredible regenerative capabilities – her wings wouldn't grow back if they were cut off._

 _Whoa. Where did that thought come from? Who in their right mind would-_

" _Maze!"_

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"Who?" Amenadiel asked, wondering if he'd heard the word correctly. He seemed totally relaxed at that point, completely engrossed in the story, as he cradled a cup of earl grey tea.

"Oh, Maze, yes. High-ranking demoness, Hell's most brutal torturer – that sort of thing," I said, taking a sip of my own tea.

"Wonderful," the Angel said dryly. From the look on his face, he didn't seem particularly keen on meeting the so-called 'Maze'.

"She's quite lovely, actually. A little stabby, but that's fine." I paused, letting my fingers dance across the spot on my neck where the scar used to be. "Amazing in bed, though."

The Angel almost choked on his tea.

.

" _They're so soft."_

 _Belle only hummed, focusing on the way the demoness's fingers combed through her feathers. The three of them were tangled together in bed, after a wild night of passion-_

.

"Okay, okay, I got it!" Amenadiel said, practically shivering in disgust. I couldn't help but laugh. "You used to be such a sweet kid!"

"Yeah, in front of you," I said with mock innocence, getting up to take the empty cups over to the bar. "Don't you think that our Uncle told my brother and me that our guardian Angel and godfather would visit every time you did? Of course, when we got older, we could predict it for ourselves, so we'd mop up the floor and put the kettle on."

The Angel looked so appalled that I felt a little sorry for teasing him.

"Did you really think that I'd do that?" I asked him, growing serious. His face went from shock to confusion in the matter of seconds. "I mean, sleeping with your brother? He is easily the most repulsive person that I'd met in my entire existence!"

He looked instantly relieved. "Oh, thank Father. You've walked the path of righteousness and resisted the temptation."

"Uh, no, the part about Maze is true." I said honestly, watching the expression on his face shift again. "And she really is an _excellent_ groomer."

"Wait, so… you're telling me that Lucifer, my brother, didn't drag you, an astoundingly beautiful woman-"

"Thank you very much."

"-to bed the first chance he got?"

"Well, he certainly did try, but I turned him down cold all the fifty-seven times," I said, after doing a brief calculation. _Yep, sounds about right._ "Sadly, it takes more than charm, humor, gifts and a pretty face to seduce me."

The Angel paused for a moment. "What else is there?"

I shrugged. "I don't know yet. A desirable quality is not trapping me that far away from my element and family so that I don't actually have to live out the movie _Beauty and the Beast_."

The reference went over his head, but Amenadiel still hummed thoughtfully, his dark eyes staring at nothing particular for a few seconds as he contemplated what he'd just heard. For a moment, it seemed that he remembered the thing he came for in the first place, but it quickly evaporated from his mind.

Of course, every comfortable silence must be broken at some point.

"Brother, what exactly are you doing?"

 _Damn it_.

Wrong choice of words. _Again._

 _Shit, then._

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End file.
